The Dreamboat Experience, Book 2 by Parker Avrile

Author:Parker Avrile
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paris April Press
Published: 2020-02-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Sheldon

The last guest pressed a limp five-dollar bill in my palm and disappeared into the nearest elevator. Captain Anders had disappeared too. A dirty trick, I thought, leaving the job of stowing the Green Flash to me and Nigel.

Correction. Leaving the job of stowing the Flash to me.

Nigel, the bastard, was already thrusting his employee badge into my hands to join my pitiful tips.

“The hell is this,” I said.

“You finish up here. Bring it back to me in the crew bar when you're done.” In other words, swipe him out after the work was finished. Make the system think he'd actually stuck around to help.

“I'm not supposed to have your fucking badge. I'll get caught, and then we'll both be in trouble.”

“No, you bloody well won't get caught. Because if you do, I'll kick your arse.”

“Why do you get to check out early, and I don't? Why is your beauty sleep more important than mine?”

“Who the fuck ever gets any sleep on this boat? I've got a poker game to run.” He waltzed off without giving me a chance to splutter out another word.

This guy faded more action than the Diamond's whole casino.

I dropped the badge over my head and tucked it under my shirt. Fuck him. He must figure nobody was bothering to check faces against badges on the security monitor at this hour. Which, come to think of it, was probably right. It was late, and we were in the middle of a wide blue sea. There was no land for a thousand miles around.

If a security guard can't sleep on the job under those circumstances, when can he sleep?

I hit a button, and a rope and pulley system guided the Flash back into its slot. A second button unrolled a metal garage-like door to hide it from view. The third button dropped a tasteful bamboo screen painted Japanese style.

There. Done. The Flash was out of sight and out of mind.

I stood there a minute, no longer seeing the painted mountain with its painted village and its painted flock of lucky white cranes.

It had been a long day. I should get Nigel's damn badge back to him, get in the shower, slide myself into my miserable little slot in the sailor's dorm. But he presented me with a dangerous temptation when he handed me his badge.

Hard to stop thinking about Ky in the wetsuit that fit him like a second skin. By now, he'd be in his suite peeling it off inch by slow form-fitting wiggly inch to expose the sculpted acreage of his flushed, damp body. Pale skin shows those little heat blotches, not to mention the blue veins running hot beneath the surface.

My balls thrummed. A vivid visual imagination can be a curse.

Nigel's status as a senior butler meant he didn't set off any alarms if he― or someone else wearing his badge― went wandering through the guest corridors. The presumption would be that his presence was required by some high-dollar guest demanding the Diamond's famous twenty-four-seven service.

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